


The morning after

by AcidGreenFlames



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO FLUFFY, Total Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift lays in the berth early in the morning with Preceptor and thinks about how much he lov..likes his little scientist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The morning after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pl2363](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/gifts).



> Happy Birthday pl2363. I hope you enjoy this wee bit of fluff on your birthday. :) 
> 
> No beta, so I'm sorry for any and all grammar abuse that lay ahead. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He stirred as the bright morning light shone through the window, stretching through the room, casting over the bodies that twinned tightly together. The light cast over an unprotected faceplates, causing said facial plates to scrunch in annoyance with a heavy sigh.

Bight blue optics slowly on-lined as the long frame shifted, tugging the limp one that he cradled tighter to his frame. Heaving a sigh again, Drift shifted upwards to lean on a single elbow, face still scrunched as he looked around Perceptor’s quarters.

Scowling at the wide open window, he send the silent command to close the blinds, the thick metal unfolding and sliding downward in a smooth, slick motion.

Drift snorted to himself as he lay back down, tugging Perceptor back to his chest, thicker arms circling around the former scientist with a sigh of content; naturally Perceptor’s blinds moved with such ease and a near sort of grace. His own blinds made horribly loud, deafening screeching noises, like nails on a chalk board when he bothered to open them. Catching on grooves and dents in the tracks.

It was why he never bothered to open them often.    

Perceptor shifted in his arms, murmuring in his recharge, some scientific jargon that Drift couldn’t understand, would never understand even if he wanted to.

But that was okay. He didn’t need to understand Perceptor’s science. He understood the scientist _behind_ the science well enough.  

Perceptor pressed his face into Drift’s chest, his nose smooshing against his windshield, taking a deep breath through his nasal structure, smelling the rich oils that Drift liked to use as his polish. The former scientist sighed again, smiling in his recharge, murmuring again and Drift heard his name uttered softly on drowsy lips.

It made Drift smile.

The swords mech reached out, the backs of his digits brushing at Perceptor’s cheek, smooth and perfect. Beautiful.

Perceptor was nothing like the others he had been with. He could hardly remember the mechs he had been with, or who had purchased him for the night, when he had been in the gutters. Turmoil had been…cruel at best. Not just dominant and rough, that he could have fun with, but out right malicious.

Gasket, his spark still broke when he thought of his long dead friend and lover, the fist one who had truly cared for him. Wing, his spark would writhe in agony at the beautiful, perfect mech who had saved him from himself. The mech who had shaped him into what he was today.

Yet, not even Wing could compare to Perceptor. The scientist was far smarter then any of them, his brilliant, sharp, beautiful mind his greatest weapon; he had a gentle strength, a determination that not even the beautiful Wing had.

Drift doubted that even Wing would have been able to scrap himself up after the assault that Perceptor had endured. Had come back from that mission different, sadder yes, the gentle innocents he once carried gone, but stronger. He had transformed himself into what he needed to be to survive the war.

Yet, the quiet innocents, that purity and curiosity that drove the scientist within him was still there. Buried below the surface, hidden beneath a blanket of armour, intelligence and cold indifference. But it was there, for all to see if they bothered to look.

The swords mech had looked.      

Drift smiled again, his valve twinged happily from the night’s activities. His spike, now decompressed and soft, was still covered in the snipers fluids, but the white armoured Autobot couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not with Perceptor pressed tightly to his warm frame, his long, lanky arms wrapped around his waist; no one else ever stayed until the following morning. Knuckles brushing the red Autobot’s cheek once again, Drift found himself smiling again. He…well Drift couldn’t admit even to himself how he felt about Perceptor, not yet at any rate.

But he knew Perceptor was the most important mech in his life. His feelings went beyond a loneliness, a camaraderie. Beyond his need to redeem himself.   

He lov…really, really liked Perceptor, and the thought of losing him terrified the former Decepticon. Yet, Perceptor was different then the others, stronger. And Drift lov…liked him for that.

Perceptor squirmed in his arms, face peeking back up to his lover, soft blue optics drowsy. “Drift? It’s still early. Return to recharge.”

“Sorry.” Drift muttered, pressing a kiss to the others cheek, settling back down alongside the thinner Autobot.

Perceptor hummed happily, settling back down, his helm pillowing on the others chest.

Drift let his optics off line, his systems evening out again as he returned to recharge with the mech he had unexpectedly grew to care so much about. Happy for the first time in a very long time.   


End file.
